Something Trivial
by aelisa
Summary: Magenta explains how the fact that she loves her brother is really something trivial. Pointless drabble.


Disclaimer: Richard O'Brien created Rocky Horror and all its characters. I am but a mere mortal.

Warning: This is a shameless drabble which I wrote in a free lesson at school; do excuse that (:

It's written from Magenta's POV, as a rebuttal to people who might think her relationship with Riff Raff was 'caused' by something. NB: this wasn't written as an attack on the fan fiction which involves some of the stuff Magenta talks about; it's just a different interpretation.. I actually quite like a lot of that fiction (:

* * *

It has never been something sordid, iniquitous, as I understand you to think.

You have your theories about how and why it came about, but I assure you, they're all erroneous. We do not need you to start making things up to defend what we did: it's really not difficult a concept to comprehend. We love each other, just the same as you and your partner. If you look closely at yourself, you'll see a lot of me there. Because really, we're all the same. You may frown at us and mutter under your breath, as if we're not real people, as if we're walking around and not seeing anyone or anything. You may do whatever you like, think as you please, because _I _know that you are I… we're just the same.

We cannot choose who we fall in love with, but if we could, I would still choose him. I am not ashamed. If what we do is to your distaste, I apologise, but it is not my issue to deal with. You are the one who has the problem, not I. Not us. You are the one who is so insecure in your own love life that you need to flatter yourself by criticising mine. You're wasting your time, because we don't care about your, or anyone else's, opinions.

You're not the first – and you certainly shan't be the last – to presume that there is a reason behind our love, a perfect excuse that would explain _everything_. My brother never manipulated or took advantage of me. He didn't plan the whole thing, ensuring to be there for me whilst we listened as our father knocked the living shit out of our mother. He didn't hide mother's empty liquor bottles and 'accidentally' let me find one so I'd break down and take my comfort with him. He didn't throw himself before father's belt to spare me the beating because he knew I'd feel oh-so guilty that I'd have no option but to stumble into his arms.

He never needed to. Our home life was nothing like that.

Ah, I know, I know, it would've been just too perfect, so easy to understand if these terrible things were true. I apologise, but we grew up normally, and largely, happily. We were not caught up in a storm of perpetual violence which threw us into a downward spiral, a whirlpool we could only survive by fooling ourselves into believing that we loved one another. We were not rich, but we were happy.

And so you protest that it must be the other end of the spectrum. Our parents were icy, aloof creatures who worked so hard to keep a roof above our heads and food on our plates that they barely noticed who we were, never understood us. I must disappoint you once more. Yes, mother and father worked hard, but we were the most important things in the world to them. They listened to us, helped us when we needed them. They took us for holidays and got us nice birthday presents. My brother and I did not fall in love because we were confused as to what love was, having never known it as children.

Yes, we sometimes felt as though we only had one another, but those moments were rare whilst our parents were around.

We were a nice little family. Not always entirely functional, but we all loved each other. How, then, did that elevate between my brother and I? Why did we cease to love simply as siblings, and begin to love as lovers? It is a good question, one which I am unable to answer. Instead, I direct you this: why do you love your partner?

Exactly.

And so, in the scheme of things, the fact that we come from the same blood is entirely trivial, don't you agree?


End file.
